


Fixing Attitudes

by kurokonekokilled



Series: Terrible Teaching Etiquette [8]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Classroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, High School AU, M/M, Spanking, cool Japanese playwrights, like lots of cursing, student ichigo, substitute teacher Grimmjow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokonekokilled/pseuds/kurokonekokilled
Summary: High school AU. Grimmjow has been substitute teaching the Classic Literature class at Karakura First High School for about a week now, since Ukitake-sensei took some time off. One of his students has a major attitude problem, and he's more than done with it. And maybe he gets a little unprofessional about solving that issue.





	Fixing Attitudes

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled out from the front of the room.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, just barely tilting his head to make eye contact with the substitute. He'd been there for almost a week now, since Ukitake-sensei had to take time off for his lungs.

And he and Ichigo had been butting heads for every second of that week.

“What?” he asked bluntly, ignoring the snickers around him.

Grimmjow’s brow twitched in annoyance. The orange haired brat hadn't treated him like a teacher for a single second since he'd walked in. And he got it, really, it's not like he looked much like one, with the blue hair and the untucked shirt and the leather jacket, but he thought he taught quite well once everyone got over their initial assessments.

“Do you have any idea what I've been talking about?” he growled tightly, his fake smile quickly fading as Ichigo shrugged boredly and turned his attention back to the window.

“Not a clue,” Ichigo deadpanned.

Which was, of course, a lie. Grimmjow had been harping on about Chikimatsu Monzaemon, talking about his Love Suicides works. Ichigo just didn't feel any need to pay active attention, since he'd done his own studies on the man and had read all of his works already.

“You can write me a biography on the man we’ve been discussing on your lunch break and present it to me after school, since you clearly know enough about it not to pay attention,” Grimmjow said cooly.

Ichigo just barely held back a snort, sharing an amused glance with Sado. He gave the substitute a thumbs up, not bothering to even look at the man.

Hey, it wasn't Ichigo’s fault that the guy looked so good when he was pissed. If this were any other class, he might even have paid attention in it.

The rest of the class went by smoothly, and Ichigo typed up the desired bio piece one handedly on his phone during lunch.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ichigo rapped on the door once before entering, printed paper in hand, sliding the door shut behind himself. He tossed the stapled papers down in front of Grimmjow, looking him up and down dismissively.

“Do I need to stay while you read that?” he asked blandly.

“Alright you fucking brat,” Grimmjow snapped. “What’s your problem, huh?”

Ichigo raised a brow at his language, but refused to be intimidated. And maybe he was a bit distracted by the way Grimmjow was snarling at him, eyes all fiery and pissed off. It was a good look on him.

“Don't have one.”

“Oh, you've got a big fucking attitude problem, and I'm done with it,” Grimmjow shot back. “I'm trying to do my damn job, trying to give your snotty sixteen year old ass an education, and you're over here acting like I'm trying to kill you or some shit.”

“I'm eighteen, asshole, you're teaching Year Twelves,” Ichigo rebutted, taking a step forward and dropping his bag to the ground. He was itching for a fight.

“Then maybe try acting like an adult instead of a fucking kid!” Grimmjow half shouted, launching himself out of his chair.

“Get fucked!” Ichigo shouted back.

Instead of the explosion of rage he expected from that, Ichigo got about half a second of shocked surprise, and then Grimmjow was grinning at him, all teeth and fury and challenge.

“Come here, brat,” Grimmjow snarled, eyes alight with fire.

And Ichigo knew damn well he was about to get a fist in his stomach, but god, did that voice do things to him. He was pretty sure he was half hard in his uniform. Fuck.

So he marched his way over there, stopping hardly a foot in front of the substitute, glaring up at him, daring him to do it.

“You're fucking ballsy,” Grimmjow laughed in warning.

And then his hand was flashing out, and Ichigo was tensing, bracing himself for a hit that never came. Instead, there was a hand in his hair, fingers tangled in the strands, pulling his head back harshly as Grimmjow stepped forward, erasing the space between them.

Ichigo faltered then, unsure of his footing now that Grimmjow was close enough that he could see the flecks of navy in those electric eyes, feel the heat rolling off his body. The man grinned down at him, laughing in his face.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” he taunted.

“Get fucked,” Ichigo repeated, significantly more weakly this time, voice wavering on the words as he saw Grimmjow’s eyes spark with excitement.

“I don't think so, brat,” he crooned, pushing Ichigo bodily back until he was pinned to the desk, one of Grimmjow’s thick thighs between his own. “You see, I don't bottom,” he continued. His free hand traced a finger over the sharp line of Ichigo's jaw, enjoying the way the redhead’s pulse was racing in his throat. “But you do, don't you?”

Ichigo struggled against him, pushing futilely at that firm, broad chest.

“The fuck are you on about, asshole? Get the -”

“Yeah, you definitely do,” Grimmjow laughed over Ichigo’s protests. “Is that all you need to sort that little attitude out? You just need to get bent over and fucked into oblivion? Get that pretty little mouth wrecked by a big cock?”

“What -”

“Yes or no, brat,” Grimmjow stated, shifting his hips so he could press his hardening cock against the bulge in Ichigo’s pants. “You can fight back all you want, but I need to know,” he dropped his voice to a low rumble, speaking directly against Ichigo’s lips, “if you want me to fuck that attitude out of you.”

Ichigo’s breath hitched, his hips arching forward against Grimmjow’s, biting back a moan at the friction. He leaned forward, lips just barely brushing Grimmjow’s before the man pulled back.

“No, brat,” Grimmjow said sternly. “Ask for it, or you won't get a damn thing.”

“Would you just fuck me already, asshole?” Ichigo snapped back, desperately trying to beat down the blush rising on his cheeks.

Grimmjow grinned wickedly, leaning in to press a vicious, biting kiss against Ichigo’s lips that left him breathless and dizzy.

And then he was being spun, shoved forward to catch himself on the desk, and Grimmjow’s hands were yanking his trousers down his legs with no hesitation.

“Make sure you count these, brat,” he warned.

Ichigo didn't even have time to ask what the hell he meant before the first slap came down, Grimmjow’s big palm burning against his skin.

“I said, count,” Grimmjow instructed lowly, leaning forward to nip at his earlobe.

And Ichigo's breath hitched, his voice shaky, but he managed to force out the words.

“One, sensei.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what other pairings you'd like me to do in this series!


End file.
